


Who Annoys you Most?

by LadyoftheWittyRemarks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:50:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheWittyRemarks/pseuds/LadyoftheWittyRemarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who Annoys you Most and Why? How would Harry answer this question? Who annoys him most? Is it Malfoy? Snape? Fudge? Or someone we'd never expect?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Annoys you Most?

Who annoys you the most (and why)?

Harry stared down at the sheet of paper, wondering for the thousandth time whose stupid idea this was. He knew perfectly well whose, but for some odd reason he just couldn't get his brain to stop asking.

It was Dumbledore's "brilliant" idea. He claimed that the professors needed to get to know the students better, even the students that weren't in their house. Harry wondered whether he was thinking of Snape when he said that, but he supposed he'd never know. Dumbledore had organised a quiz, a little questionnaire of sorts, that asked all sorts of borderline-personal questions. Starting this year - Harry's fourth - this would be an annual thing to be completed by everyone each year. The sheets would be duplicated and handed out to all of the professors. This was supposed to help the professors with giving punishments and understanding their students and their motives, or some other psychological mumbo-jumbo like that. Harry thought it was a bit stupid, really, but no one was asking his opinion.

Not like anyone ever did, anyway.

But Harry really couldn't complain too much. Most of the questions were sort of easy. Some required a lot of thought, but it was this one he was stuck on. He  _knew_  the answer, of course, but he wasn't quite sure he  _wanted_  to answer this one. But it was two o'clock in the morning, and he was to hand this in to the instructor of his first class that morning. He was too tired to come up with a lie. So he decided to write the truth.

_Who annoys me the most and why._

_I know what names you're expecting to see here. You're expecting to see Malfoy, or Snape, or the Dursleys. Or maybe you're expecting Voldemort's name to show up. You might be expecting to see Fudge-the-incompetent's name, or perhaps Peter Pettigrew. But they aren't the people who annoy me the most. No, the one who does is someone you'll never expect._

_The person who annoys me the most is Ron Weasley._

_I know what you're thinking. It's probably something like "but I thought he was your best friend," or "how could you say that after all you've done together," or maybe even "well that settles it. Potter's either as stupid as I always thought he was, or he's being possessed." Well, I can promise you that yes, he is my best mate, and no, Snape, I'm not stupid or possessed. Ron's the best thing I've got. But this question didn't ask who I_ hate  _the most. It asked who_ annoyed  _me most. And trust me, Ron can be pretty annoying._

_He's annoying because, as my best friend, he should know me practically better than I know myself. And you could argue that he does, I guess, if you really wanted to. But there will always be that one thing about him that gets to me._

_The way he treats his mum._

_I know that probably sounds really,_ really  _stupid, but it's the truth._

_I hate the way he acts around her, always so embarrassed and squirmy, saying "Mum, gerrof, you're embarrassing me." I hate the way he complains all the time. "Maroon again. I hate maroon." and "corned beef again. she always forgets that I hate corned beef."_

_He's always complaining about how much better I've got it. "You're just so famous, Harry," and "you always get all the attention," and "yeah, that's all I'll be. Harry Potter's stupid friend." and "you're so rich, Harry. You could by an entire bloody Quidditch team and not even put a dent in your Gringotts account." (which, by the way, is a HUGE exaggeration.) And he just sits there and says this stuff, and he doesn't even realise._

_He doesn't realise that I'd trade the fame and the fortune in a heart beat. He wants people stalking him with cameras? He_ wants _reporters to eavesdrop on his every conversation, then twist his words to make his life into some sob story? He wants to be famous for something he doesn't even remember? Well, let him have it all._ I  _certainly don't want it._

 _How can he not see? How can he not understand how much he's got? A nice home,_ six  _siblings who would die for him in a heartbeat, and two_ amazing  _parents who love him and his brothers and sister more than anything in the entire world._

 _"You know, Harry, sometimes I wish I were you." Why though, Ron? Why would you want to be alone, hated, an eternal outcast? Why would you want to be hated by your own aunt and uncle? Why would you give up such an amazing home? Such an amazing family? Such an amazing_ life?  _Don't you get it? Don't you understand, Ron, that_ I _would give anything to be_ you?  _That I'd give anything for_ my  _mum to knit me a Christmas sweater every year; knit me a sweater by hand because she loved me that much? Don't you know that I'd_ love  _for my mum to make me a sandwich for the train ride because she didn't want me to go hungry? To have_ my  _mum hold onto me before I left for the year? To hug me tight and just never let me go, because she knew she wouldn't be seeing me until at least Christmas, and it broke her heart that she wouldn't be seeing me for such a long time? You think I wouldn't just_ love  _for my mum to come tuck me into bed at night like yours tries to before you tell her you're much to old? That I wouldn't be overjoyed to have my mum come to my bedside at night and have her make sure I'm warm and snug in bed and kiss my forehead and tell me she loved me, and maybe even read me a story (when I was little?) Don't you understand that I wish I even_ had  _a mum to worry about me, and fuss over me, and be worried about me enough to scream at me when I almost break my neck trying out a Wronski Feint? Don't you know how much I would have loved to be able to crawl into bed between my mum and dad after I had a scary nightmare, and have them hold me close, and to feel all safe and warm and loved for once in my life? Why don't you understand, Ron, that it isn't_ me  _that's the lucky one?_

 _Why don't you understand that_ you  _are? Why?_

_Why can't I just be you?_


End file.
